


A Capriccio

by fineinthemorning



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Occasional HideKane Screwing Japanese Etiquette, Rare Pairings, Self-Denial, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love, Voyeurism, aritsuki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born from misfortune, love blossoms between an unlikely pair. Brought together by rejection, Arima and Tsukiyama, two strangers, expected this only to be a one night stand, but something had grown between them- something they couldn't accept or deny.<br/>It starts out angsty and gets fluffy later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shuensha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuensha/gifts).



> I would like to thank the lovely Tako for planting this seed of sin inside me (and beta-ing), so that it could grow into a multi-chapter story of no regrets. This will be a fun ride with angst and fluff(really), so please join us, okay?
> 
> Also, the POV sort of hops around constantly, so forgive me.

The library is where he expected Haise to be, so when he saw them in one of the reference rooms on the third floor, he wasn’t surprised. However, instead of moving to meet him and address the report that had been submitted the other day that he’d reviewed and found quite a few holes in, he just watched for a moment. The room was large and held many rows of bookshelves full of books that smelled of old paper. Haise was seated at one of the two long tables that had three or four desk lamps at each for those studying to have light to focus. There was no light from the large curtained windows that made the library appear more like a fancy western historic library than a large public one used by the masses in the middle of Tokyo. Arima couldn’t help but think that Sasaki looked like he belonged there with his black turtleneck sweater and rumpled hair, eyes scanning the contents of the script below him searching for answers to questions no one had asked in years.

 

Even from standing a distance away, the reaper could see Haise’s brow was knit in frustration. The reference book in front of him held numbers to reference the collections of newspapers in the box beside him. He was standing, so he could easily trace the page with the index finger of his left hand while thumbing through the files in the box with his right. He was wearing his glasses- the round lenses adding a bit of a boyish quality to his features. Arima could remember the day that they’d purchased them and how Haise had picked them out immediately. He’d been so-

 

“Ken!” The reaper watched, hidden from view, as the blonde quite nearly _pounced_ on the crossbreed, his arms wrapping around him with a hand pushing Haise’s head to turn to his left so their lips could meet passionately in a kiss.

 

Arima looked away, but only for a second.

 

“H-Hide!” the First Class Investigator pushed the taller man off of him and hushed him quickly with a heated whisper, “ _We’re in a library!_ ”

 

“Our location doesn’t affect my need to smother you in affection, Ken.” Arima watched with mild, perhaps annoyance, as the blonde propped himself up on a table and sat in front of Sasaki with his legs dangling off the side. The blonde could appear natural in any environment, and if the environment didn’t suit him, somehow his presence alone would shift the air and change the atmosphere and force _it_ to adapt.

 

“ _Now is not the time to be smothered!_ ” Sasaki crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes in disapproval. Arima had never seen Haise quite so flushed before. When they’d lived together years ago when Haise was still recovering from their first encounter, he’d always respected his privacy when he could hear _panting_ coming from his bathroom.

 

Despite the way he felt about Haise now, he’d only ever _imagined_ that color currently spreading on his face or the way his tongue escaped to lick his dry lips subconsciously.

 

“The color in your face,” and the blonde had snaked arms around his boyfriend’s neck and hooked his legs around the other’s own to draw their bodies flush together at the hip, “tells me _otherwise_.”

 

Sasaki, for a moment, didn’t appear to _breathe_ , his breath caught in his throat, because Hide’s smell was so suffocating and it always, _always_ made it impossible for him to _resist_ , “ _A library_. Hide- We-”

 

The reaper watched as the blonde forced their lips together and swallowed his lover’s protests with the upward roll of his hips, only breaking the contact to add, “ _I locked the door._ ” Arima watched as the blonde pulled them closer together and Haise stopped resisting, letting go only to push the box and books aside to make space on the table.

 

“ _Smother me, then_ ,” he heard Haise nearly growl with lust- a tone of voice he didn’t know the crossbreed was even capable of despite what they’d shared in the time before he’d regained his memories. Back then, Haise had been so close to _him_ , so honest with _him_. Of course, he’d always made the distinction that Kishou was like a father to him, but Arima had always wondered, he’d always thought- _wished_ \- that perhaps they could have been-

 

The blonde’s hand had worked its way between them, likely massaging Haise with the way the half-ghoul moaned and bared his neck, “Only if you promise to be quiet, Ken.” Hide’s free hand slid into the black locks that floated on the back of his neck and slid upward to bring the investigator’s head down so their eyes could meet, “This is a _library_. A place of _study_.” Arima wondered absently how that smile on the blonde’s face could drive Haise to change his expression completely, his whole body responding to it with want.

 

Kaneki grinned in response, nibbling Hide’s lower lip before replying, “You always make for an interesting read, Hide.” Arima watched as Haise’s hand disappeared between them as well and the blonde only moaned in response.

 

Arima put a hand over his chest without thinking, his own lips parted slightly as his half-lidded eyes watched the two fumble with the heated and clumsy removal of their clothing. There was a shift, suddenly, at his right, and his eyes darted to see, a few rows of bookshelves over, that the three of them were not alone. Staring back at him were half-lidded red eyes. A man that was his height, with his lips parted, and his hand over his chest. He was watching Arima with confusion and for a brief second, Arima considered if he was staring into a mirror.

 

“Ugh!” A _moan_ ,  “Ken-just- yes- _there-_ ”

 

Arima, distracted by the vocalizations of the blonde, looked back in the direction of the lovers to see that they’d successfully discarded all of their clothing and were now-

 

The stranger-

 

He looked back to see that the red eyes had left. While thinking through the possibilities that could follow, Arima moved quickly and silently through the room to find the one who’d been apparently _watching_ the little scene unfold and actually _knew_ of Arima’s own presence there as well.

 

A burgundy burned velvet suit jacket in the pattern of roses was retreating towards the door near the wall, but just as the red eyes looked back to see that he was being followed, Arima pulled him around and down to the floor, holding him and locking him in place as though he were about to arrest him.

 

The first thing he noticed was that he was, in a word, _beautiful_.

 

Red eyes narrowed in immediate disgust, a harsh whisper striking through straight white teeth and moist lips, “ _Let me go, pervertir!”_ and he tried to spit at the man in glasses on top of him but Arima saw it coming and pressed the side of his face firmly into the carpeted floor below.

 

Arima looked down at him blankly as he struggled, feeling the muscles of the stranger below him tense and recognizing that for how lithe his frame appeared to be, there was definitely only muscle beneath this ridiculously flashy choice in clothing. “You’re watching two young men fornicate on a table in a library.” His tone was just a touch accusatory, and his words were heavy despite the low volume at which they’d been uttered.

 

“As are _you_ ,” the stranger hissed, certainly not in the mood to be dealing with someone else when all he really wanted was to find a dark place to brood.

 

“I was not. I-” there was something about the way the man’s turquoise- no cerulean- hair fell around his face that made him look increasingly attractive as he struggled. It was enough to leave the reaper at a loss for words. He’d been denying what exactly?

 

Tsukiyama could feel the stranger’s gray eyes, so like Kaneki’s, study him and pick him apart as they analyzed his ever changing expressions, “ . . . _Get off of me._ ” He didn’t want to cause a scene. True, he hated what was happening only a few meters away. It should be _him_ that Kaneki was fucking into the table, but-

 

If this was what Kaneki had _decided,_ and it was what made him _happy,_ Tsukiyama couldn’t-

 

It was times like these that he hated the person he’d become.

 

Arima was analyzing the emotions that played across the stranger’s face, red eyes falling from threatening to remorseful in a matter of seconds. They were just so _expressive_.

 

“ _Hide, how are you always so-_ ” the two of them could hear clearly the half-ghoul’s words cut off by a loud _thump_ against the table that effectively rattled the lamps on the table.

 

Arima frowned when he saw Tsukiyama’s face twist slightly in disgust. Perhaps this man didn’t approve of what was going on only a few meters away. “You’re going to stop them.”

 

Red eyes darted up again, pride resting there that had been built over many years of nearly always getting what he wanted, “I’m _not_ ,” and dissipating slightly after only a mere three years of losing what he loved, “-and why does it matter to _you_?” He didn’t even realize that he had stopped struggling. He was, instead, much more aware that the man with the white hair- like Kaneki’s had once been- was still straddling him to keep him pinned to the floor. He did not appreciate how close the man was.

 

“ _Leave them be._ ” Arima didn’t understand. Every one of these expressions on the stranger’s face was so telling- so honest- like Haise’s expressions had been once, but Haise didn’t quite look at him the same anymore. No, he hadn’t for some time.

 

“Hide, _not so fast_. Make space.” and the near _whine_ in that voice left both men on the floor go silent.

 

They watched each other carefully with unblinking eyes as they heard the other two men in the room move together.

 

“Ken, if I had known you liked having sex in public places, I would have tried this _ages ago._ ”

 

“Hide, _shut up_ and just let me fuck you.”

 

Both men were familiar enough with the half-ghoul that they could hear the _smile_ in that voice.

 

Tsukiyama’s lips were a deeper shade of red and he bit his bottom lip as his eyes looked away from the reaper’s as he responded to his previous threat, “That’s what I’m _trying_ to do.” He needed to be a hundred miles away from Kaneki’s voice that was so _thick_ with love and directed at _someone else_ ,  “ _I’m trying to leave._ ”

 

“Turn over-” the box of files fell to the floor with a _thud_ as they heard the other men move.

 

The blonde, as predicted, had made the library his home, as his voice sounded to the books and the walls that his presence was natural here and what they were doing was more than accepted- it was expected, “ _Oh_ -god-yes- you- _oh-Ken_ -you just- _don’t stop-_ ”

 

Tsukiyama studied the man over them before speaking again, his words without any accusation or judgement. “You’re enjoying this.” He was stating fact only.

 

Arima heard Sasaki moan and his own hips quivered. It had been barely a movement against the man beneath him at all, but when their eyes met again, it was evident what they both wanted. A second later, Arima let go the stranger’s left arm and sunk his palm against him to confirm that yes, he too, was hard. Before Tsukiyama could react, the reaper gripped at the other’s wrists to move his arms above his head, sunk his body into him, and brought his lips crashing down to his.

 

Tsukiyama gasped in surprise which only caused Kishou’s tongue to slide inside, forcing his mouth open, but the man responded in kind and with equal ferocity.

 

Neither of them really knew what was happening in that moment between the two of them, because both of them were too focused on the pants, the moans, and the gasps of ecstasy coming from a few meters away.

 

Arima was wearing a vest and a sweater, so while Tsukiyama worked the buttons on his vest, the investigator worked at the buttons of the shirt beneath the suit jacket. As soon as he finished the last one, his large hands movedfrom the stranger’s stomach, up his abs, over his chest, to wrap around and caress his shoulders. Arima watched as the stranger bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He was holding back a moan, and it pleased him. It was easier to focus on what was escaping Haise’s lips, instead. He pulled his sweater off over his head without his glasses being pulled away at all and the stranger stared, mouth agape slightly, at the muscles of his chest.

 

Arima couldn't remember the last time he’d had sex. He was grateful that, this time, it was at least with someone beautiful.

 

Neither of them were shy about removing their pants, and it was clear to him that the stranger wanted this as bad as Arima did when he went so far as to turn his back to him and shamelessly grind his ass against him.

 

Haise’s thrusts could be heard, and they were speeding up. Arima lamented that he hadn’t even entered the stranger yet. Before he could communicate anything, however, he felt a wet hand on his length and the stranger was on his knees pressing into him as he shaped his already moist length with wet slender fingers. Arima bit at the stranger’s ear as he worked him from behind. Instead of moistening his fingers with his own saliva, Arima reached forward and graced the stranger's neck, feeling up and over his chin before sinking two fingers inside his mouth.

 

Tsukiyama instinctively leaned his head back against the other’s left shoulder as the white haired stranger pulled his fingers in and out of his mouth. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Tsukiyama gave him a lewd expression. Arima’s mouth formed a line in response and he pulled his fingers out of his mouth only to reach behind him and slide them inside somewhere new. At that, Tsukiyama moaned breathily in response, back arching into the other’s chest as fingers invaded deeper.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Ken. Really? You’re gonna stop now? No one’s here. Chill.” Tsukiyama couldn’t see the blonde, but he could see Kaneki’s upper half and his eyes had narrowed down at the table.

 

“Hide- I heard-” Tsukiyama held his breath as he watched his heart’s desire scan the library with his now mismatched eyes. His glasses must have been discarded somewhere along the way as he was no longer wearing them.

 

“This?” And suddenly the blonde was in view as well and he lazily draped his arms over the other’s shoulders while likely, judging from what little Tsukiyama could see, rolling against him, “ _Uhnn- Uh- Uhh- Ken- Harder- Harder-”_

 

“Damn it, Hide.” Kaneki looked perturbed but he was clearly enjoying it. Tsukiyama wanted that expression on him, but even from here, and even directed at someone else, it was enough to get his heart racing even faster. “You don’t have to sound so forced.”

 

“ _Make me mean it_ , then,” and the blonde smiled mischievously at his lover, even adding a wink at the end of this challenge.

 

“ _Fine._ ” and Tsukiyama’s eyes widened as he watched Kaneki crawl on top of the table as well, his nude figure visible briefly before it began slamming down into the blonde below him. With a loud _squelch_ , the two at the table were at it again, and before Tsukiyama could process the press against him, he was pounded suddenly with a burning and searing pain.

 

Tsukiyama couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. He was grateful that, this time, it was  at least with someone who appreciated a bit of pain with pleasure.

 

Arima lifted the stranger’s body with his own strength before slamming him down again. It only needed to happen once before Tsukiyama understood with the other wanted and before long the two had worked into a rhythm comparable to the that of the two at the table, though Tsukiyama was sure the pain he was feeling was far more intense.

 

“Hide! Hide!”

 

“Harder, Ken! _Harder!_ ”

 

Arima’s hand worked quickly at the stranger’s length all while the smaller of the two slammed down on him over and over and over and-

 

Arima was awarded no warning as the stranger came, but Arima felt the cum on his hands before the moan had escaped the other’s lips, so the investigator was able to react and put a hand over other male’s mouth in time to stifle the sound. The investigator stifled his own moans by burying his face in the other’s hair that smelled so strongly of roses. As he heard Haise climax, he came quickly thereafter. He didn’t let the other male go even as he came down from his orgasm and the stranger, also still trying to steady his breathing didn’t move away, either. Instead, with Arima’s arms wrapped possessively around the lithe body in his lap, the two watched as the two men at the table broke apart.

 

“Shit, how am I going to clean this up?” Kaneki was standing again, moving about to put his clothes back on and hand Hide his. His voice was considerable louder and more comfortable at a normal volume than before the two had begun their public display of affection.

 

“Ken, it’s a library. _Keep your voice down._ ”

  
“I can’t take you anywhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for enjoying this! I'm so happy! They're cute!  
> I think the ship name might be "aritsuki" for the first two hiragana of their last names, Arima topping? Is that how it works? I have no idea. OTL Please enjoy this ship!! Spread the rarepair~!  
> Also, this story is not all sex, I promise. OTL There is fluff later. I promise. OTL

 

When they see each other again, it’s at the bookstore that Kaneki favors in Shinjuku. Tsukiyama was coming down the escalator with a bag in hand on his way out and Arima had seen him from below while he was waiting in the check-out line on the first floor. The whole way down the escalator, their eyes never strayed from one another’s.

 

Arima recalled their last meeting with a lick of his lips. After Haise and Hide cleaned up after themselves, they’d left the reference room in a hurry. As soon as they’d left, the blue haired stranger had pulled the two of them apart, immediately complaining over something concerning stains, the lack of a condom, velvet, and silk as he unceremoniously put his clothes back on and attempted to brush his hair flat by running his fingers through the strands of turquoise.

 

Arima did the same but without a word. He’d surprised himself, actually, and on so many levels. It wasn’t just that he’d fornicated with a stranger in a very public place. It was that he’d done it while _watching_ Haise. All he could _think_ of was Haise. All he _wanted_ was Haise. _Seeing_ and _hearing_ Haise in such a state had made him completely _lose control_. It was . . . _unacceptable_. His actions were completely out of line. He could not harbor such feelings for someone who looked up to him as a _father_.

 

Still, he hadn’t said a word. Once the two of them were composed and their eyes had met for the final time that night, neither of them said so much as a farewell when they parted ways.

 

But, that had been almost two weeks ago. Of course, it was merely coincidence that he’d had roses at his desk the next day or that he’d purchased and worn a red necktie a week later or that he’d done a double take when he’d seen a stranger on the train with hair the same _unique_ shade of blue.

 

So, when he saw the man for the second time in such a public place, it took great efforts for him to look away when he reached the register. Minutes had passed, and it was plenty of time for the stranger to move on and leave him alone to his impulses and bitter memory of a most unusual encounter. After checking out, the investigator checked his watch. It was nearing nine at night and Arima had nowhere to be. He turned to walk out the front when he noticed that the man was standing, unmoving, just outside the bookstore on the busy sidewalk. _Waiting._ He knew it was him not just because of the color of his hair. The burned velvet capelet was also a dead giveaway that it was the very same man whom he’d- when Haise had- well-

 

Arima walked up beside him, but, not knowing what to say, he merely turned his head to look over at the man. The stranger was looking at him already, red eyes piercing as he gave the investigator a once over beneath long eyelashes. He appeared to be considering something, but what, Arima wasn’t sure. Kishou cocked his head to the side as his eyes fell half lidded beneath the lenses of his glasses. He didn’t smile, but he was curious. Why was the other man still here? He had really been waiting for him? The stranger with the cerulean hair actually spread his lips thin and smiled mischievously, red irises gleaming knowingly. The investigator looked straight ahead quickly, not understanding the smile he’d received and its complete contrast to the way the man had treated him two weeks ago. He hadn’t expected the other to _want_ to see him which he had concluded because he hadn’t actually left the store. He hadn’t expected the other to be _pleased_ to see him, either, which was evident, he believed, in the gleam in his eyes and the curl of his smile.

 

“You’re shy now, _colombe_?”

 

Was that French? The death god looked back at him, careful to ensure that the light was hitting the lenses of his glasses just right; he’d mastered this art. So, when his lips curved ever so slightly in the ghost of a smile, the stranger beside him would be unable to find the truth of his intentions hiding in his eyes.

 

Instead of responding to the stranger, Arima turned right down the street and headed in the direction of the station. Somehow, he knew the stranger would understand to follow him.

 

Tsukiyama had smiled for one reason and one reason only; he knew that he’d already _won_. Following the unexpected turn of events in the library two short weeks ago, Tsukiyama had wasted no time in finding out just who he’d been intimate with- because _that_ was an honor so rarely bestowed and the man, no matter how attractive, had better have been someone of some sort of _merit_ otherwise his own pride would have been damaged. He’d contacted Chie the same evening, and within a matter of an hour or two, she’d told him everything while he treated her to some abhorrent buffet where humans ate nothing but sweets and cheap pizza dishes for a prespecified time.

 

“Was it this guy?” She tossed her tablet at him and he’d fumbled with it a moment before getting a better look at the picture. He wasn’t surprised at all to see that the man was in a CCG uniform. If he was familiar with Kaneki and Naga-the _Washuu_ boy, that only made sense.

 

What did shock him, was the _name_.

 

Chie was on the verge of laughter, “Let me get this straight. Arima Kishou, the _shinigami_ of the CCG, fucked a _ghoul_ in a _public library_ and it was- _”_

 

_“Little Mouse, will you be quiet!?”_

 

“This is rich.” She was smiling as she shoveled more chocolate cake into her mouth.

 

“Your cake is _rich._ My family is _rich. This_ is _ridiculous.”_

 

“If by ridiculous, you mean hilarious” It was nice to see Tsukiyama a bit flustered. It’d been so long since he’d focused on anything outside of Kaneki and anything that touched him.

 

“Hm, this only proves he’s rather quite human after all.”

 

“I guess . . . Wait . . . you _like_ him.”

 

The ghoul scoffed, “I don’t _like_ him, Little Mouse.” What he did like was all of the _parallels_. What he liked was drama, too- that bit of _danger_ that had surrounded him in that moment he’d been pinned to the floor by a man who could quite likely kill him with the pen in his vest pocket. “ _Tres captivant._ This could be . . . _interesting.”_

 

Mouth full of cake, Chie mumbled, “Certainly a distraction from Kaneki.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing. Get me more pie, Tsukiyama.”

 

The ghoul watched the death god’s back disappear in the crowd before catching up to him and following him several paces behind. The shinigami’s actions now, meeting him at the exit, eyes scanning him in curiosity, were all Tsukiyama needed as proof of his success in a game he decided he’d been playing all along. The investigator _wanted_ him- no, maybe not him specifically. It was clear that, like himself, Arima Kishou wanted Kaneki. Still, the investigator clearly _valued_ him as a means to an end.

 

Tsukiyama Shuu currently held some amount of power over the most feared dove of all time. Did this please him?

 

 

So, when he realized that the investigator had lead them to a hotel on the other side of Shinjuku station, he felt his skin begin to crawl in excitement. He _did_ want to try this again, though he wouldn’t let that on to the investigator. Or at least, he wouldn’t show the investigator that perhaps he needed him, too, and for a rather similar purpose.

 

He waited by the elevator with a knowing and salacious smirk while the white haired man purchased the room. Tsukiyama was satisfied with the choice in hotel, it being one of the most popular in Shinjuku. The man had come right to it, however. Was that any indication of the man’s typical Friday-night escapades? In the elevator, Tsukiyama was pleased when he felt strong arms slide around him from behind. To encourage the other, he even turned his head to the side to bare his neck. Arima Kishou had received the invitation well and was already sucking at one spot in particular which elicited a soft hum of approval from the ghoul. When the elevator dinged, they looked up to see their reflection and then immediately broke apart. Tsukiyama noted that while his hair was perfect and he looked attractive in the arms of the other, he also looked needy and hungry- as if he were begging the death god devour him.

 

Arima had only one purpose in mind when he decided to follow through on his impulses and that was to sate his desire for Haise. When he’d seen the reflection in the glass of the elevator door, he’d been face to face with the reality that the man he was holding _wasn’t_ Haise. It wouldn’t do. This evening would only serve its purpose fully if the man with the red eyes could neither be seen nor heard- only _felt_.

When they made it to the room and removed their shoes, he was glad when the cerulean haired man didn’t turn on the light. He didn’t bother with it, either. He wanted them off. Thankfully, the curtains were closed. However, the city lights peeked through around the edges. It was just enough to make out the outlines of the furniture. Perfect.

 

He heard something knock against the chair- the tassels of the other’s capelet? He then heard the clink of metal- a belt buckle being unfastened? He removed his own coat and dropped it casually on the fainting couch at the foot of the bed, but he removed nothing else, and stopped the other’s hands as they worked at the waist.

 

He moved his own hands against the stranger to slowly pull the belt from their loops in the pants only to toss it on the short couch with his jacket. He then, slowly, unbuttoned the other’s pants and pulled at the zipper. The other seemed to understand, because his hands mimicked the actions but on Arima’s own pants instead. Soon enough, they had removed each other’s clothing and the stranger with the red eyes was pulling him into bed on top of him.

 

Arima frowned when he realized his eyes had adjusted. It wasn’t the silhouette that bothered him so much as those red eyes. As he began to kiss up the stranger’s chest, he closed his eyes.

 

 

In seconds his lips were on the other’s and after only an initial gentle contact, the kiss became possessive, hot, wet, and suffocating.

 

Tsukiyama felt the change and he loved every second of it. Yes, he wanted to _belong_. Yes, he wanted to be _devoured_. Yes, he wanted _Kaneki_ to _want_ him- _take_ him- take _everything_ from him. He felt a large hand wrap around him, and he bucked suddenly into it. The fingers of the other hand had dived into his hair and was tugging, no pulling- painfully- Tsukiyama arched his neck and bit back a moan so he could move with the painful pull of his hair.

 

_Kaneki-yes-_

 

His own eyes closed, his hands felt up the other’s chest and went to press needfully into the strong muscled shoulders of the other- Kaneki was so good with his hand. He could be so possessive and- When he felt the other’s thumb on him, he let out a rather vocal gasp.

 

Arima opened his eyes to see the man below him. Not Haise. This wouldn’t do. The investigator's hands slid away but only to find the stranger’s hips suddenly to pick him up and violently slam him back into the bed on his stomach. Everything became much easier from there. Again, there was no lube, so spit would have to do. Judging by the reactions of the one in bed with him- especially how excited he’d become after being physically flipped over- he enjoyed the pain. Was this happening too fast?

 

A condom-?

 

He felt hands behind his neck and a firm ass rubbing against him suddenly. He realized then how hot the other’s skin had become. He felt around for the other’s chest and flicked at his nipples curiously. It earned him another grinding of his ass against him. He pushed the arms away from behind his neck and moved his left hand to press the other’s neck down and slam his head violently into the sheets below while his right hand caressed the muscles of his back, sliding down further and further until disappearing beneath him to grab at his length.

 

“ _Haise._ ” He found himself inside moments later, Haise tight around him as he kept him pinned in place.

 

Tsukiyama knew exactly what was going through the other’s mind in that moment, but he couldn’t feel disgusted with him. No, disgust was the furthest thing from his mind, because the way he was being held, touched, treated was so deeply rooted in desire and love, that his suspension of disbelief worked very little to manipulate the moment into something meaningful between himself and-

 

_“Haise-”_

 

Even being called some other name didn’t bother him. It was quite the marvel how deeply Kaneki could touch others, change others. Knowing who he was, it was shocking to think that someone so feared had fallen so helplessly for the ultimate taboo.

 

_“My Haise-”_

 

With every time the death god uttered the name, Tsukiyama was unable to focus on it being Kaneki behind him. Still, even if he couldn’t imagine it was Kaneki’s hand around him or Kaneki slamming into him, being Haise- at least in this moment- felt just as good. He met the other’s thrusts with equal need, and when he moaned, it was into the pillow. Neither of them would benefit from the illusion breaking.

 

Despite the ferocity of his desires, the death god took care not to bring either of them to climax too quickly. It appeared that once he’d fallen under his own spell, he’d begun to handle Tsukiyama in a far less selfish way- touching him- licking him- biting him- spoiling him in any way possible but always stopping short before he came.

 

It was during these demonstrations of affection that Tsukiyama realized it. Haise Sasaki-no- Kaneki, had complete and utter control over the death god. He had no idea.

 

Unable to stand it a second longer, Tsukiyama finally grabbed at the other and led him back inside him. Able to take the hint, the investigator returned to their prior position and within minutes, Tsukiyama had cum over the sheets and all over the investigator’s hand with Arima finishing soon after inside him.

 

When they collapsed in a heap beside one another, it was evident that the illusion was broken.

 

Once he caught his breath, Tsukiyama stood and made his way to the bathroom, sure to close the door all the way behind him before turning on the light to clean himself up. He studied himself in the mirror briefly as the marks on his skin were already beginning to fade. This game was a lot more dangerous than he thought, and that had nothing to do with the investigator’s identity.

 

Arima stared into the darkness, not really seeing the ceiling as he calmed himself down physically and thoughtfully tortured himself mentally.

 

He really _did_ want Haise. He wanted him so badly that he’d go so far as to fuck a stranger in a public library and then meet him again two weeks later to fuck him while calling Haise’s name.

 

It wasn’t gross.

 

But, it _was_ wrong.

 

Haise was already happy. Haise saw him as a father. Haise was happy with him fulfilling that role in his life-nothing else.

 

Arima considered the stranger with the red eyes. What they’d done wasn’t bad. Maybe the reasons behind it weren’t the best, but it was better than his emotions, yes _emotions_ , getting the best of him and him doing something stupid to disrupt Haise’s happiness.

 

 _This_ was much better than _that_.

 

Tsukiyama returned from the bathroom and immediately went to finding his clothing.

 

“Do you know Sasaki?”

 

Tsukiyama froze for a brief moment before returning to putting on his pants, “No.” It was partly a lie and partly the truth.

 

Arima understood, “I see, so you know _Kaneki_.” He was clear on know being an _understatement_. The look the stranger had in his eyes that night in the library was the same he knew he held. They _both_ wanted Haise. They had _both_ lost.

 

Tsukiyama didn’t answer that time. It didn’t sound like a question, anyway. The investigator seemed to just _know_ which didn’t please him in the slightest. He could feel the other’s eyes on him as he buttoned his shirt, starting from the top and working his fingers further down. He’d expected to feel inferior somehow to the death god in the bed, but since that night in the library, it had become increasingly clear that they were equals, especially concerning their feelings towards Kaneki. This encounter was bitter, but it was needed for both of them. Shuu tied the tassels for his capelet. He expected that to be it. The white-haired man in the bed wasn’t telling him to stay or asking for any sort of contact information. However, as he turned around, he heard a voice absent of inflection confirm that this wouldn’t be the last time.

 

“Here. Same time- 9:30. Next week.”

  
The ghoul confirmed nothing and walked out without saying goodbye. Was Arima Kishou playing this little game, too? However exciting it was, he recognized that it was posing a threat- not just to his own life but to that of his family as well. Arima Kishou could never come to find out his identity- as a Tsukiyama or as a ghoul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to tell me what you guys think, since this is unknown territory. OTL


	3. Chapter 3

 

Friday night. Nine-thirty. Keio Plaza Hotel.

 

Tsukiyama Shuu didn’t know why he was here, but he was, and he was waiting in the front lobby for Arima to arrive only seconds before he actually walked in through the sliding glass doors. Same as their previous two encounters, they didn’t exchange greetings. Tsukiyama’s red eyes met Arima’s gray ones for a brief moment before he stood and followed the other into the elevator. It was clear that Arima had already prepared for this evening as he didn’t go to the counter meaning he’d likely already booked a room. It showed that he was confident that Shuu would come back, and Shuu wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

It didn’t matter, apparently, how he felt about any of it, because as soon as the elevator doors had closed, the man had pinned him to the cold glass and was already forcing his way into a kiss.

 

And Tsukiyama was appalled for a moment, a brief moment, before he lost himself in the other’s taste. Blood seemed to permeate the air around him like the sweet scent of a marinade- or perhaps, in this case, a cologne. Even that reminded him of Kaneki, towards the end anyway.

 

When the elevator bell dinged, Tsukiyama bit suddenly into Arima’s lower lip. The investigator stepped back, a hand going up to his mouth quickly when he realized that blood had been drawn. The ghoul had effectively fixed his disheveled hair just as the elevator doors opened. He had to ignore the smell, and he was grateful he hadn’t quite tasted it. One wrong move and he might have been unable to control his kakugan. That would have been the end of it.

 

Arima said nothing but he did lick his bottom lip slowly to remove the blood. He walked past him so that the other could follow behind him. It was fine that the other drew blood. It was a relief that he wasn’t something fragile Arima would need to be concerned with breaking.

 

Inside the same room as the week before, the two followed the same motions of last week, except when the investigator pulled off the stranger’s coat and tie and blouse, he dropped them to the floor without thought which earned him a disapproving grunt from the other man who had, when removing the other’s garments, tossed them onto the fainting couch.

 

Arima noted the behavior and stored it in the back of his mind as if he’d need to retrieve it later. Would there be a later? Would these encounters continue? At least for now? No, they didn’t need to continue this. This would be the last time.

 

With the thought in mind, the investigator pushed the man towards the bed, but instead of falling backward as he’d done last time, the stranger sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the man closer and between his legs by pulling his arms around his back. Arima leaned forward, closed his eyes, and immediately began working his mouth on his neck as he had a week ago in the elevator. Sweet.

 

He climbed onto the bed and picked up the man below him briefly to lay him out onto the sheets. He looked down at the naked figure below. He could see better with his fingers on his chest rolling over his abs, but those red eyes- It seemed that no matter how dark it was in the room, he could always see those red eyes. They were not Haise’s, but they were-

 

_They are beautiful._

 

Tsukiyama understood that something was different about the way the investigator looked at him. Beyond the fact that he was looking at him, seeing him, and not his back so that he could imagine Haise, there was something else there. He’d seen that look before even if it wasn’t something he’d seen cross the death god’s face before.

 

_He thinks I’m beautiful._

 

Good.

 

Tsukiyama felt his heart quicken in pace. Hooking his leg around one of the other’s and putting his arms around behind the other’s neck, Tsukiyama rolled the two of them until he was on top, straddling the human with a bit of a grin on his face. He pulled his arms away and settled on top of the investigator’s stomach, rolling his hips against his member from behind.

 

It was dark, but Tsukiyama could see well enough that same soft white hair.

 

_Kaneki._

 

His eyes were half-lidded, focused only on the color, as he leaned down to kiss the strands.

 

Without pulling away, he studied the same glassy skies that belonged to the man he’d pledged his loyalty. The eyes closed, and, without thinking, Tsukiyama kissed the right eyelid.

 

He’d never been allowed that conversation with him. It had taken years, but he understood now. He accepted that he was not just a ghoul. He didn't have to live in one world. His fate was not determined by the same laws Shuu himself had grown to know. Kaneki would always be half human as well. He'd never lose that part of himself and that was also something to be treasured. Shuu had learned and accepted that. It had just been too late.

 

The stranger had kissed his right eyelid- Haise’s human eye. What did that mean? And the way he was kissing him now . . . gentle, tender, breathing into his ear some foreign language before sliding his hips to lay flush against him. Arima tried to relax as those soft lips traveled across his right cheek to his lips, kissing him slowly and deeply. He felt the stranger sit up again without breaking the kiss, and his hands went to the stranger’s hips to steady him.

 

They really were the same in that regard.

 

Both of them loved-

 

And he wanted it. Arima realized that he wanted it. He wanted to know. So once the kiss had broken, he regained control, and rolled them over once more. He spit into his palm and began to work his own length to ready himself for-

 

Tsukiyama batted the other’s hands away and turned them back over so that he was on top. Noting the somewhat annoyed expression on the death god’s face and storing it later for a good laugh, he turned so that his back was facing the investigator, and, while sitting on his chest, spit into his hands and began to work him until he was hard.

 

Arima gasped suddenly at the other’s hands on him. It was best like this. It was best when he couldn’t see those red eyes and he could imagine that it was Haise who-

 

No, wait, what happened to wanting to know? Of course. He did. He wanted to feel-

 

“Cum like you did the first time,” he had sat up somewhat, enough to whisper in the other’s ear, “Do it. Don’t hold back.”

 

Tsukiyama frowned as he felt the breath on his ear and processed the words, “Perver-” He stopped without finishing the word. No, he _understood_. He’d seen it in the other’s eyes last week and he’d _felt_ it in his _touch_. It _had_ been nice. Of course it had been nice. The god of death had touched him like he would have the one he _loved_. He’d treated him as though he were precious, unique, desired-

 

And now he just wanted that in return.

 

The ghoul figured it was worth trying. He knew he’s benefit from it, and if it was something the investigator wanted, there was nothing wrong with going along with it. He closed his eyes and called upon the skills of his overactive imagination, “ _Kaneki._ ” He let go of the investigator and crawled off of him in the dark. He moved some of the pillows against the headboard aside, and gripped it meaningfully, back, as always, facing the other.

 

The investigator seemed to have understood, because seconds later, he felt those same large hands rub his shoulders and travel down his arms and back again, down his back to massage at his ass- “Kaneki,” and back up his back again only to travel around his body to trace his chest and travel down his abs to ghost fingers against his-

 

“Kaneki! _Fuck-_ ”

 

“ _Louder_ ,” he heard Arima insist after likely realizing that Tsukiyama was most certainly holding back. The voice broke the spell somewhat, but not completely. The hands traveled down his thighs to the backs of his legs and back up again, kneading at his ass.

 

“ _Kaneki,_ ” he breathed the name naturally all the while gripping the headboard. How many times had he called that name while touching himself? Pleasuring himself? The hands on him now somehow felt a thousand times more intense.

 

He felt something wet and thick against his entrance and he trembled suddenly, “Mon cher.” He could feel the other’s tongue slide slowly inside him and he writhed in response, careful not to move too much as his hips were held in place by the white-haired stranger. “Mon amore-” When he felt the other’s tongue begin to slide in and out repeatedly, he let himself go, repeating the name of the person he _wanted_ over and over again.

 

Shuu wasn’t sure how long that had gone on before he he felt the tongue slide away. He’d already spilled precum on the sheets below him and the other didn’t seem to mind. In fact, one hand with slender fingers slid around the ghoul’s length once more, pressing a thumb slightly over him causing him to buck suddenly into his palm.

 

There was only a gentle press as a warning before the investigator slammed into him suddenly. Tsukiyama didn’t hold back with his gasps, grunts, and groans, terms of endearment, curses, and the name of his heart’s desire spilling from his mouth as the man behind him emitted no sound beyond shallow breaths. It didn’t take long for Tsukiyama to come, but as the other continued his work, the hand once around his length now pulling mercilessly at his hair and jerking his neck and back into an arc, it didn’t appear that the death god would be done anytime soon.

 

Arima didn’t expect the stranger to come so soon. He didn’t feel near ready to do so by this point. He figured it may have had something to do with the illusion being broken for him. While the man with the red eyes had given in completely to the idea that Kaneki had been the one inside him, it had made it impossible for Arima to believe he was inside Haise.

 

Perhaps the stranger understood, because once he’d cum, he’d gone quiet for the most part, eliciting gasps only beyond his control. He’d, by now, let go of the headboard, and was instead arching his back against the investigator’s chest, his head bouncing against the investigator's shoulder like it’d been in the library. It made everything easier for Arima and he took what he wanted. He was rougher with him, and he imagined that for all the sweetness Sasaki could show, he certainly had something desperate and wild beneath it. No, _knew_ that he did. He remembered, _‘Just shut up and let me fuck you.’_

 

He didn’t know why but the other seemed to beg for the violent treatment from the ways his body moved. As soon as Arima decided _Haise_ had grown too comfortable, he forced him back down into the sheets without ever pulling out of him or losing his rhythm. He grabbed suddenly. While the investigator pulled at his hair with his left hand, he scratched nails down the other’s back with his right, even drawing blood with the action.

 

“ _Un-_ ”

 

It caused _Haise_ to quicken the pace and he began meeting his rhythm even harder, and after a moment of this, Arima’s tension was released in a jerk and a wave and he lost the rhythm of his thrusts immediately and pulled out. He fell into the bed beside the other, and before he realized what he was doing, he had embraced _him_ from behind, their sticky bodies fitting together just-

 

The smell of roses-

 

The investigator let go immediately, and, this time, it was his turn to stand up and retreat into the bathroom. He turned the light on and looked at his chest to find red smeared in four long steaks. He’d lost control again.

 

This was more than wrong.

 

This was _insane_.

 

He cleaned himself up quickly and walked out of the bathroom to apologize for having gone too far. The stranger, however, was already putting on his shirt, buttoning up the front in a hurry to leave.

 

“Your back . . .”

 

Tsukiyama’s words cut, “ _I’ll be fine._ ” he wouldn’t admit that he liked it, but he smiled for now to cover up his internal panic. His back had already healed. The shinigami finding this out would mean his death. Thankfully, he was already nearly fully clothed.

 

“Now, we’re even,” he heard the investigator say down to him as he searched the floor for his tie, suit jacket, and coat.

 

Is that what this was about? He knew exactly what he meant. It had nothing to do with the now absent injury on his back. It had everything to do with Kaneki. Last week, the investigator had used his body to fulfill his needs for Haise, and just now, he had encouraged Shuu to do the same. Twisted. Ridiculous. They both got something out of it both times. It wasn’t like Tsukiyama hadn’t enjoyed himself both last time and now. What was the dove’s problem?

 

Tsukiyama said nothing as straightened his coat on his shoulders and walked past the beautifully naked body of the investigator.

 

Arima said nothing as well.

 

They didn’t make plans to meet again.

 

In the shower, Kishou considered his actions. The first time. The second. This time. It was just sex, but even then- He’d never been with someone consecutively . . . this many times. On top of that, he’d never even thought he’d enjoy it; that was something he never predicted as well. Did it mean the stranger was someone he-

 

No, of course not.

 

It only meant that he’d never cared for anyone like he had Haise. Anything would do even if it meant only pretending.

 

“ _Haise._ ”

 

He felt the burning hot water slide down the toned muscles of this body and pool at his feet below somehow lukewarm. Haise, the one he’d loved, really was gone forever. The one he had now was still him, but it just wasn't-

 

It wasn’t the same.

  
Since that time, he’d been pretending. He realized now that there’d only ever be pretending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh? Eh?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song included in this chapter is here: [Can't Stop. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43-g2KKFgW8)  
> The lyrics are mostly why, but the cover, what I linked to, is 9,000 times better than the original. T-T  
> Thank you all for your support~! Apparently, this is shipped in the Japanese community as "aritsuki" and "ArimaShuu". : D

 

**Saturday:**

 

“So, where were you last night?” They’re at Saizeriya for reasons completely unknown to Shuu since it’s just a shittier version of Cafe Gusto. From what he’s read and what he sees on Chie’s plate, they’re both pretty terrible. He’s learned not to question her tastes, at least not _too_ often. If she’s talented with anything aside from photography and information gathering, its _payback_.

 

Shuu leaned back in the booth seat with his hair falling away from his face as she ate, a cup of cheap and rather disgusting coffee in front of him, “Mon dieu. What does it matter? There is nothing interesting about my tragic love life.”

 

“So you _were_ with the shinigami?” she was smiling in a way that Shuu was familiar with; it appeared innocent to anyone who didn’t know her well.

 

“Of cour- Little Mouse, what are you plotting?” He straightened and grabbed for his coffee cup, only to let go when he remembered how terrible the contents of it tasted.

 

Her smile hadn’t faded. “The Investigator and His Ghoul. What an interesting photo that’d make.” Was that a sparkle in her eye?

 

“You’re perverse.” He was leaning on the table with his head resting in his hand, his elbow bent. His hand moved to his chin and his index finger crossed his lips closed.

 

Chie only felt encouraged from the annoyed look she was getting, “It really would though- even better if he’s wearing his uniform and your kakugan is showing while the two of you-”

 

The Gourmet nearly erupted, his hands in front of him to shut her up, “Basta! Basta!” and then he resumed his prior position when she stuffed another piece of hamburger in her mouth, “There is nothing between us. We’re done. We made no plans to meet again.”

 

“Okay, okay, chill.” Her smile was as unchanging as her appetite, “But call me up next time, because-”

 

Shuu interrupted her and offered casually, “You can take photos of me nude if-”

 

And she cut him off without missing a beat, “That’s okay. It’s not really interesting unless that Arima guy is there.”

 

Tsukiyama straightened and put his left hand to his chest, “You wound me. I have a very nice body.”

 

Chie rolled her eyes with a smile, “Nothing to write home about.”

 

**Monday:**

 

Kaneki walked in without knocking, but, to be fair, the door hadn’t been closed all the way. He knew there was something wrong when the investigator hadn’t even looked up as he entered.

 

When he processed what the investigator was distracted by, he felt a blush surface on his cheeks. What was happening in front of him? Arima Kishou had his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly in something of a smile, while he inhaled the scent of _roses_? Had he just walked into some kind of alternate reality? Wait, where did the roses even come from? What the hell was going on?

 

Kaneki coughed.

 

Arima straightened and stood and, like a true master of the art, cleared his face of any expression, “Yes?”

 

“This is the report on the “V” investigation.”

 

Arima walked around his desk, “Close the door, Haise.”

 

Kaneki stepped back and shut it quickly.

 

“We’re investigating the Tokyo MET. One careless move could blow our cover.”

 

Kaneki _did_ know better. He’d just been thrown off balance by the man sniffing _roses_ , “Yes, sir.”

 

And Kishou moved suddenly to take the file, using a long leg to trip the half-ghoul, but Sasaki must have seen it coming, because he flipped backward suddenly, and gripped the file with both hands, careful to make sure none of the papers fell from the manila folder.

 

“Light on your feet today, Haise?”

 

“ _Every day_ , Arima-san.” He was wearing a mischievous smirk rather than the teasing grin Arima had grown so used to. Time changes all things. He was still wearing a lopsided smile when he asked, “Who sent you the roses?”

 

Not catching that it wasn’t a serious question, Arima stiffened somewhat, “No one, Haise. I just thought it would be nice . . .”

 

He didn’t finish his sentence and it was clear to Kaneki that his _father_ was not on top of his game today, so he dropped the formalities and, as he handed him the folder, bluntly asked, “Are you okay, Dad?”

 

Arima nearly gagged and Kaneki was immediately apologetic, “I’m sorry. I just- You seemed upset, and I thought it would make you happy, but if it’s weird- I-” Kaneki’s cheeks had gone pink. He hadn’t meant to make things worse. For all that happened, he truly did appreciate the reaper. He was important to him, deeply so, and he only wanted him to find some kind of peace in his life. He knew better than to accept that his father figure was happy merely killing ghouls day in and day out. He hadn’t forgotten his time as Haise. He hadn’t forgotten the loneliness the investigator was clearly plagued with.

 

Arima took a deep breath, his eyes closed, and processed the appropriate response. He was important to Haise. That’s what mattered. Maybe he wasn’t important in the way he wished he was, but he was _valued_ , even after the way he’d treated him in the past; he was _understood_ at least to some extent.

 

He had to be grateful for that. “It’s fine, Haise, just- not at the office, okay?”

 

Haise took a step back and nodded, “Right, sorry Arima.”

 

“It’s fine,” he repeated and pulled from within him the most reassuring smile he could muster, “Thank you.”

 

And he was rewarded with a genuine smile in return, “I’ll be back later to check on you.”

 

Arima didn’t quite understand why Haise would feel the need to check on him, but he nodded as the younger man was leaving, and he gave a sigh of relief when he was alone again.

He turned back towards his desk to see the bouquet of short stemmed roses. What was nice about them?

 

**Wednesday:**

It’s Wednesday afternoon and, after being accused by Akira that he possessed only one shirt, the reaper had ended up in some random mall several blocks from headquarters. It was made up of boutiques, and the clothing appeared to be of high quality no matter where he looked. The problem was, however that he was having trouble finding anything he liked. Maybe this was where the accusation had come from. He liked _plain_.

 

He’d been in a boutique, touching a capelet that had been on display, when he heard someone ask, “You have a good eye. Looking for your girlfriend?”

 

He was immediately taken aback, not by the question but at the realization of what he was doing, “Um, no, sorry, I-” What was he even doing there? This was a women’s boutique or a men’s? Fashion these days . . .

 

The shop attendant only smiled knowingly, “Oh, my apologies, your wife? What’s her eye color? It should match. See how we pair it with this little black dress?” The woman motioned to the display.

 

“Velvet.” Arima couldn’t believe his own stupidity in that moment, but he blamed it quickly on his lack of sleep. Paperwork had kept him up going on forty-something hours by now . . . He really should just go home.

 

“ . . . Oh, uh?” The confusion on the woman’s face was short-lived. After a beat, she smiled knowingly. The man must be rather smitten with his wife; it was cute.

 

“Red, I mean red.” Arima did his best to hide his embarrassment, which, actually, was a rather impressive job considering.  
  
  
_Red._ He felt the color drain from his face.

 

He’d been thinking of the stranger when he said that? This- _what_ -? No, it was just a coincidence. Of course, the red-eyed stranger had worn something similar two weeks ago. That was why.

 

“Oh, I see, then this one?” She pulled the wine red capelet out that was decorated with lace and stitching.

 

Arima, too confused and too uncomfortable with what was happening, only nodded.

 

He left the store with a 40,000 yen capelet and a vague feeling of defeat.

 

**Thursday:**

 

A perk of never having to worry about expenses was not giving a shit about utility bills. So, whenever Shuu chose to pleasure himself whilst in the shower, there appeared to never be an end to the burning hot water that poured forth down his neck and back and around his hips to join his hand as he jerked-

 

He imagined his hands on him, smaller but even more powerful than his own, black fingernails and calloused fingertips reaching to-

 

Shuu opened his eyes and imagined those gray irises looking back at him eye-level, seeing through him all the feelings he kept from-

 

“Fuck-”

 

The ghoul stopped and suddenly came just as he knocked his head against the tile, resting his forehead against the cold ceramic as his body spasmed.

 

Kaneki wasn’t that tall. That stupid death god was his height. What the hell was he thinking?

 

**Friday:**

 

Tsukiyama arrived a half hour early. It was stupid, yes, but it didn't really matter. It was all physical, so it was only harmless. When he requested the same room, the man behind the desk shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but that room is booked.”

 

He smiled, his ego growing with the spread of his lips. Of course it was. Of course. He knew better than to ask the name it was under. Besides, it wasn’t like he was desperate to know. If it really was the reaper, it only meant that he had the upper hand. The investigator was upstairs waiting for him. Of course he was. Of course.

 

But what to do with that information?

 

Tsukiyama walked out of the hotel into the night air. There were still tons of people out rushing in hurried steps to disappear inside buildings and escape the cold. The shops wouldn’t close for another hour and, though this was west of the station, there were quite a few famous restaurants this way that kept people traveling from block to block. His legs moved without direction, and he was across the street outside the station watching street performers moments later.

 

His legs stopped at the crowd around one in particular. There was a crowd around her, and she was signing in English, a language he had yet to master as well as French but still knew enough to understand most of what she said.

 

_“I keep looping my memories of you in my head, I pretend that you want me._

 

_And I fall asleep and dream of alternate realities._

 

_And I put myself at ease by pretending that he still loves me._

 

_And I can’t stop thinking about you.”_

 

The ghoul tightened the muffler around his neck and silently admired the fluid voice that spilled from the small frame of the street performer. Nights like this, it was by no means unusual to see performers such as herself, but most often they were loud, usually comprised of an entire band, a bit obnoxious- But her sound was silk and liquid red, and the crowd that gathered must have been put under the same spell as Shuu.

 

_“What I would give to have you look in my direction._

 

_And I’d give my life to somehow attract your attention._

 

_And I touch myself like it’s somebody else._

 

_Thoughts of you are tattooed on my mind, let me show you.”_

 

When she finished, the spell broke, and Tsukiyama inhaled and exhaled slowly. Once more. One more night wouldn’t matter. Just one more time.

 

Moments later, he was standing in front of the door to the hotel room. He stared a moment at the latch that had been placed in the door frame. It was being propped open. It wasn’t locked. It was an _invitation_.

 

Tsukiyama smiled to himself. Arima Kishou wanted him. Or, at least he wanted to use him. No, maybe, by this point- he needed to use him.

 

The ghoul opened the door, and, without looking inside, his confidence overwhelmed his caution and he pulled the latch away so that the door would close and lock behind him. When he turned back around, the first thing he noticed was the figure silhouetted by the city lights that poured through the large window. The curtains had always been closed, but this time, this time the investigator had opened them and let in the light of the station, the malls, the Labi building only two blocks away- and his body was black against the city skyline.

 

It took Shuu’s breath away, and for a brief moment, he’d forgotten his position- his whole being illuminated by the lights outside for the death god to see. When he realized the truth he let slip, he masked the unsteady beating of his heart as he sauntered closer.

 

As always, there were no greetings.

 

Arima turned at the sound of the door opening and he noticed the expression right away. Something inside him- around the stomach- did a flip, and immediately, his heart began to beat a bit faster. The stranger had actually shown up, sure, but he’d looked so vulnerable in that brief moment. It was as if he actually thought Kishou-

 

But then the expression was gone, and it was replaced with something dripping in confidence, lust, and _hunger_? Not surprisingly, the expression left Arima feeling far more comfortable than the previous one. As they began to undress one another, their lips connected in a heated kiss, he was relieved that the stranger said nothing of the curtains, nothing of the light illuminating the room and coloring the features of their faces and said nothing of how the light helped in no way in hiding their true identities.

 

Tsukiyama recognized immediately that the investigator had not dropped his coat or blouse or tie to the floor but had instead tossed them over to the fainting couch. Tsukiyama recognized that as they broke apart for air, he didn’t leave his eyes closed, but instead opened them and trapped his gaze in a lust-filled haze as their lips met again, again, and hovered slightly breath mingling between them. Tsukiyama recognized _it was different this time_.

 

Arima stared back, his hands cupping the other’s cheeks and his eyes meeting the other’s expectantly. Blood red. This time, he didn’t want to look away. He continued kissing him, tongue sliding between soft lips to taste the inside of the other's mouth carefully, thoughtfully, without force but with equal passion as he had previously when he’d imagined-

 

Their bodies were flush as he lead the other to the bed. This time, he turned, sitting on the bed and pulling the stranger into his lap as the city lights unmasked his face- composed but wanting.

 

The two moved together, and with every new shift, the light illuminated the truth. Neither of them called for Kaneki or Haise. Neither of them closed their eyes. Neither of them pretended.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Arima was holding the other in his arms once they’d finished, his mind traveling back and forth between loving Haise and wanting to feel loved as Haise was. He watched the lights dance outside the window, rain now falling timidly and sliding down the window in thick droplets. Without thinking, he buried his nose in the other’s soft blue hair and inhaled the scent of roses. He leaned in closer and kissed the back of the other’s neck- once, twice.

 

He’d wanted this. He couldn’t place what it was exactly, but lying here with his arms wrapped around the other, he felt oddly content.

 

“Tell me your name.”

 

The ghoul is surprised at how quiet his own voice is. He hadn’t expected their time together to turn out as it had. He hadn’t expected to be seen or heard or _accepted_ , at least to this extent. It was confusing and making the whole situation more difficult to understand.

 

“Does it matter?” the death god asked back. He was fairly certain the man in his arms now was a ghoul. There had been signs since the beginning. It hadn’t bothered him, because . . . Haise mostly. The man merely provided an opportunity to him, and he expected nothing more from it. But now- Telling him would mean the end of whatever they were doing, and the truth was that he didn’t want it to end. His name was synonymous with _death_ for ghouls. If the ghoul in his arms heart his name, then it would mean the end of two things- the sex, of course, but also . . . having someone who understood him.

 

Tsukiyama felt his heartbeat speed up. “I’ll guess it.”

 

Arima realized then that maybe he already knew. If that was the case, then the ghoul has known how much danger he has been in all this time. All this time, he has known the risk that he has been taking. Why would he risk something like that? Didn’t he realize that he was a-

 

Tsukiyama made sure his voice was steady, “Arima Kishou.”

 

The reaper said nothing.

 

“I know that I’m right,” and the ghoul pulled out of the other’s embrace and began to leave toward the edge of the bed, but the reaper grabbed his arm before he could leave.

 

“Tell me your name, then.”

 

The ghoul pulled his arm away, and the reaper let him go, “Does it matter?” Tsukiyama grinned, his body silhouetted by city lights.

 

Kishou thought about it or a moment. No, it didn’t matter to him one way or another. It did, briefly, make him consider his next move, though, and after staring out the window while feeling those red eyes watching him, he decided.

 

The Gourmet left for the bathroom, taking his clothing with him, and returned minutes later, fully clothed.

 

The reaper was still lying in the sheets, but the light over the fainting couch was dimly lit, and Tsukiyama breathed a sigh of relief that he was already fully clothed and the collar of his coat covered his long already healed neck.

 

Arima handed him a folded piece of paper, “Come to this location next time.”

 

Shuu tucked it in his pocket without bothering to look at what had been written, “Same time next week?”

 

The reaper nodded, and with that, the two had made a promise that no, this wouldn’t be the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is it so far?  
> Getting fluffier? :p


	5. Chapter 5

He should have requested he come sooner. Arima was pleasuring himself twice more than usual just thinking about the man. The man knew who he was, and he likely had all this time. And still- _still_ he let his guard down around him. _Still_ , he let him fuck him into the sheets and seen him at his most physically vulnerable and never- _not once_ \- shied away or acted scared or treated him as if he were some sort of unreachable god.

 

How was it that he was feeling so much more _human_ with a ghoul?

 

Friday night, he cooked dinner. It was only a simple pasta dish and he wasn’t sure why he was bothering if he already knew the other was a ghoul. Maybe he wanted the other to think his secret was still safe. Was that the most that could be gained from it?

 

Arima fixed the silverware and frowned. He hadn’t set out a second plate since he’d lived with Haise nearly two years ago, and even then, it hadn’t been- well- it hadn’t been pasta.

 

What was he doing?

 

When the doorbell rang, he walked over to the box beside his door and looked into the screen at the man with the cerulean hair. He noticed that the man didn’t look into the camera, and he kept his head turned toward the the door. Arima understood. He said nothing and hit the buzzer to open the door, watching the last second on the small screen as the man walked through.

 

When Tsukiyama first arrived, the first thing he noticed was that this was, in fact, the reaper’s home. It was an apartment, and when the man opened the door for him, it was clear with the slippers he was wearing, the smells wafting from inside, and the minimalist furniture that the investigator did, in fact, reside here. With that realization, another followed- the man had absolutely no fear. He feared nothing at all. That was the only explanation for this. Surely the finest investigator the CCG had to offer didn’t actually _trust_ him. He was a stranger. He’d never confirmed how he was tied to Kaneki. He could be anyone.

 

“Come in.”

 

But the death god didn’t seem to care, apparently.

The door shut behind Tsukiyama as he walked in, “You cooked dinner?” The ghoul removed his shoes, and, while bent over, twitched his nose at the scent of the rosemary, basil, and garlic from further inside. Weeds. Like eating hair- some old woman’s hair- gray and burnt and- When he stood straight, he smiled somewhat, attempting to look pleased and actually quite good at it.

 

Arima offered him a way out, “If you’ve already eaten then-”

 

“My muffler.”

 

Arima followed his line of vision. The scarf had been wrapped lazily around a hanger that was hooked into the coat rack. He turned away. The capelet, in all its lace and embroidered glory, was also hanging there on the _same_ hanger and beneath the muffler, still wrapped in the clear plastic.

 

“You left it.” With his back facing his visitor, Arima walked further into his home, making his way into the living room as the ghoul studied, with his eyes alone, the rather fine garment inside the plastic.

 

Well, that was nice. Thoughtful, at least. Shuu didn’t particularly fancy the scarf; it was one of many, but the capelet beneath it, however, was rather radiant. The red was very near the color of his own eyes.

 

Arima had turned around when he hadn’t heard the man follow him further into the room. He followed his line of vision and offered weakly, “You can have it. The cape. It was an accident.”

 

“An accident?” the ghoul didn’t understand how the purchasing of such a gem could be an _accident_.

 

“I suppose it could be a gift?” Arima didn’t sound sure of himself. He wouldn’t be taking it back, anyway. After purchasing something of such value, it was a bit embarrassing to even attempt it; the shop staff may be insulted.

 

The ghoul’s expression was flat until he put all of the statements together, and he assumed that he immediately understood. The reaper had bought it as a gift _for him_ ; he just didn’t want to admit it.

 

A gift. From Arima Kishou? To his-

 

No, not _his_. Tsukiyama’s loyalties lay with Kaneki and Kaneki alone. He didn’t _belong_ to anyone.  

 

That’s right. It was his decision to pounce on the investigator, and cause him to fall backward over the arm of his couch as he kissed him aggressively. It was his decision to pull the man’s clothes off and toss them about the room haphazardly. It was his decision to initiate, before dinner, another session of releasing pent up sexual tension and frustration as quickly and passionately as possible. Again.

 

Soon enough, Arima had him half draped over the back of the couch as he stood, pounding into him while he held his hips steady. It was dizzying, because Shuu, while overcome with desire and need, was also noticing that their impromptu encounter would leave the man’s furniture in a mess. But then, just as he was reaching his peak, Arima pulled away from him suddenly, turned him around and dragged his body closer so that they could reconnect with Shuu’s legs wrapped around his waist.

 

Shuu didn’t make a sound. The lights were not only on, but he wanted to watch him? Arima wanted their eyes to meet? He wanted to watch his expression? He wanted to be connected in every way with the man who wasn’t and never would be Haise?

 

Sure, they’d been fucking for four weeks now, but this was too much too fast. At what point was it satisfying sexual needs versus-? It wasn’t like they’d discussed this, but really-? The last time had been different, sure, but _this_?

 

_He wants me._

 

Tsukiyama felt a pain in his chest, and immediately, he vocalized his frustration with a pained moan as Arima slammed into him again and again, their thrusts now accented with the wet noise of Arima sliding in and out of him. The ghoul’s  eyes met steel gray irises, and all he could think was that perhaps he hadn’t won this game after all. Perhaps he’d actually been the one to-

 

He felt the skin beneath his eyes begin to tighten, and suddenly, without warning, he briefly demonstrated his inhuman strength by lifting himself forward and throwing his whole body weight into the Arima’s next thrust. His arms wrapped around the investigator and he hung his head over his shoulder as the investigator quickly, and rather skillfully, moved his hands around the ghoul’s thighs so that they could continue in the new position.

 

Shuu thanked the heavens that the investigator could carry on standing, because in that moment, his kakugan had flared up suddenly, much to his displeasure. He’d been able to hold back before but the pleasure, not just from the body but- _Stop. Stop. Stop._ Tsukiyama squinted his eyes tightly shut, willing away his kakugan as much as he could. The investigator  was too much. Not just the way he fucked, but, somehow, he was- The ghoul couldn’t focus. His senses were in overdrive and the effect was dizzying beyond belief. All he could think to do was shake his head viciously as he willed his eyes to return to normal and his kakugan to recede.

 

This would be the end if- Tsukiyama bit back a moan, “ _Kishou-_ ” he felt the man climax and fill him, the reaper’s legs shaking slightly as he rode out the orgasm. A hand went into Tsukiyama’s hair and pulled, attempting to see his face, but Tsukiyama pulled back and spilled between them.

 

He felt the other tug his hair again, and just as he relented, his kakugan receded, and his red irises met steel gray and held them, captive, as they both tried to catch their breath.

 

The ghoul sunk inside the other’s touch as Arima met his lips in a kiss and laid him out on the couch. It had been too close. Dangerously close. Tsukiyama felt a chill run through him as the other continued to kiss him, melting into him thoughtfully, patiently, attempting to elicit from Shuu any vocal response. Arima pulled away briefly to meet the other’s eyes again, one hand pressing into the couch to hold himself up while the other played with cerulean hair. Shuu smiled like a man with many secrets, all of them good ones, and wrapped his arms lazily around the other’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him again.  

 

The thrill of nearly being found out  had made the sex even better. Right, that's what it was.

 

<><><><> 

 

Twenty minutes later and the ghoul was lying naked on his back on the couch without an ounce of modesty. He knew he was beautiful and Arima was free to look. He enjoyed being admired, and having someone lavish such attention and affection on him was not unwanted.

 

The investigator had since put his own slacks back on, but he hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on. Tsukiyama wondered absently if the other had noticed how much his eyes enjoyed the view of his well-defined chest. In clearly no hurry to bring up the subject of dinner again, Arima sat on his floor at the edge of the couch, and, without thinking about his actions, he traced the inside of the other’s arm with his fingertips as it hung lazily off the side of the couch.

 

Arima tucked cerulean hair behind the other’s ear and whispered, his lips brushing softly in a feather-light tease, “ _I know you’re a ghoul._ ”

 

Tsukiyama’s entire body tensed, horrified, and his red eyes widened. He wasn’t going to die. Maybe he’d lose but he’d go down fighting. He quickly began calculating the angle of the walls and the height of the ceiling and if there was a briefcase anywhere in the room.

 

Arima tried not to smile. He enjoyed having control over others, and it was satisfying seeing the other react with fear, “It’s okay if you are.” Arima’s fingers moved up his arm and down his chest, caressing his body in clear adoration and a touch of sadism as the edges of lips curled ever so slightly.

 

It was a little bit shocking that the ghoul investigator could touch him, not Kaneki, but _him,_ so tenderly, and _still_ peer at him in a way that made him hot and thick with wont. “ _Why?_ ” he looked away from him. The look Arima was giving him didn’t look like he wanted to kill him, no; it was more-so like he wanted to _devour_ him.

 

“I’m not going to kill you,” and his lips followed the path his fingers had made. He felt the other’s body respond to the affection, the ghoul’s muscles tightening and pulling his lips deeper into his skin as soon as he continued down his chest to his stomach. Arima was not sure what was wrong with him. All he knew was that he was enjoying this and he was enjoying having the ghoul there with him; he didn’t want it to end.

 

“Why?” Shuu trembled with excitement as the man continued to kiss lower and lower. He had lost, hadn’t he? He had truly lost this game.

 

“You’re important to Sasaki, aren’t you?” The investigator didn’t know if that was the _whole_ reason, but he recognized that it was part of it. He wanted Haise to be happy. He never wanted to hurt him again.

 

 _Oh, that's all it is._ The ghoul frowned and then immediately corrected his line of thinking. _Why do I even care about that anyway? No, it doesn’t make a difference whether his reasons have to do with me or Kaneki._

 

“Tell me your name.” The investigator stood only to inch himself onto the couch, sitting beside Tsukiyama’s nude hips so that he could admire him from above. However, once he’d found himself in that position, all he could do was stare down into those red eyes. There was such _pride_ inside them despite the fear he was sure the ghoul must have been feeling.

 

“I don’t trust you.” It was brutally honest, but the investigator expected nothing less.

 

“I don’t completely believe that, but fine- until you tell me, I’ll call you . . . Pigeon.” He reminded him of a pigeon he’d seen at the zoo, but he could not recall what kind of pigeon. Anyway, it wasn’t a normal pigeon. It was blue with red eyes, and it had a bit of a flamboyant appearance. It also acted like a bit of a drama queen as Arima recalled.

 

“Why ‘Pigeon’?” Tsukiyama clearly did not like the nickname, and it showed in his annoyed expression. Pigeons scavenged for food. They weren’t very pretty either, and they were rather common. He clearly did not fit the title of _pigeon_.

 

“You don’t like it?” Arima wasn’t smiling yet, but his tone was light and there was more mischief in his eyes than malice.

 

Tsukiyama was frowning but his eyes smiled. Was the investigator actually . . . _playful_? “Well, it’s-”

 

And Arima cut him off, “You’ll have to get used to it if you’re not going to tell me your name.” And now, he couldn’t help but smile, however small it was, and the gleam was in his eyes as well.

 

Shuu sat up and mocked a pout, “Fine, _dove_.” Shuu used the English word for the slang term for ghoul investigators.

 

Arima could only catch his tone to understand his meaning, “Are you insulting me, Pigeon?”

 

Shuu stood and began to gather his things. He felt confused. What were they even doing? This was the most they’d spoken to one another and the familiarity with which the investigator was treating him was just- What was happening here? He’d even called his name during sex. He was an investigator. He was a ghoul. This was just-

 

Shuu felt that same strong hand mimic the action of their last encounter and grab his arm to keep him from leaving, “ _Stay._ ”

 

The ghoul was having a terrible time of  believing all of this was happening. He meant it? The most widely feared investigator- the death god of the CCG- was begging him to stay? To do what? He wanted him to stay the night just to hold him, just to sleep in his embrace and wake up beside him? What was going on?

 

What would happen if he refused? Would he be allowed to?

 

Arima must have read the question in his expression, because he let go so suddenly, and Tsukiyama was given the impression for a second that he was on fire, “Please, do as you wish,” and he looked away, gray eyes refusing to meet red ones as if he’d done something wrong. The air about him deflated completely, the control and power he’d previously been exerting dissipating suddenly.

 

Tsukiyama marveled at how very small the reaper could appear.

 

He should leave is what he _should_ do, but Tsukiyama stared at the man’s back and turned head and hovered just a moment longer debating the implications of both of their actions and deciding finally that it didn’t really matter so long as the guy wasn’t going to kill him. Right? No harm done. Right?

 

He walked past the investigator and into the doorway of what he assumed was his bedroom, “Your bedroom is as boring as the rest of the house.”

 

“It’s not all about looks.” The relief that Arima felt now that the stranger had decided to stay was more like a scream than a sigh.

 

“No, but that part is very important,” Tsukiyama leaned his hip and one arm on the door frame in a bit of a pose.

 

“Lucky for you,” Arima remarked as a smile resurfaced to his lips. Yes, it was something of a compliment. He stood and pulled the stranger inside his bedroom where only a dim light was lit and led him towards the bed.

 

Tsukiyama appreciated the compliment. It was clear from their encounters that Arima did not mince words. He watched as the investigator sat up on the edge of his bed and he let himself be led to stand between his legs. Looking down into gray eyes in the dim light, Tsukiyama decided it wouldn’t hurt, “Shuu. Just Shuu.”

 

“Shuu.”

 

The ghoul leaned down and kissed the other’s lips, hands sliding naturally into position, his left on the investigator’s right shoulder and his right sliding into the other’s hair, “The same could be said of you, Kishou.” He climbed into the other’s lap.

 

So very few people called him by his first name, and he was sure that no one had ever had the courage to call him by his first name without permission. Arima kissed him back, inhaled the scent of his skin- _still roses_ \- and reached to kiss up his neck, “Please treat me well . . . Shuu.”

  
Tsukiyama felt a shiver run through him. “And you, Kishou.” This was the beginning of something dangerous, but it was too late to take it back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pigeon that Arima was thinking of was the "Victoria Crowned Pigeon". Google search it and be amazed.
> 
> Who is playing who at this point? Are they both losers or both winners? :p  
>  ~~We are all winners here.~~


End file.
